


i defy you, stars

by passionesque



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Fluff, In which Obi-Wan leaves the order, Promised HEA, Romance, Some Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionesque/pseuds/passionesque
Summary: The course of true love never did run smooth - William Shakespeare* * * * *“Would you still have me leave?”“What?” Her voice was slightly muffled by the high-necked collar of his Jedi robes but she knew he heard her.“After all these years till now, would you still ask me to leave the Order?”She paused for a moment, debating on telling the truth due to something prickling at the back of her head, silently telling her that her answer was terribly important, that it could contribute to something that would alter the future irrevocably.“Yes.”OR: In which a certain Duchess broods about a confession unwittingly given before receiving a visitor to have a long overdue talk. Occurs during the events ofVoyage of Temptation.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 27
Kudos: 248





	i defy you, stars

**Author's Note:**

> uh idk what to say except watching s7 of tcw has me drowning in feels so here. it's a huge piece and well, i hope you guys enjoy. and much thanks to the lovely _and_ overwhelming support from you guys on tumblr. this is for you. <3

_ Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow _

_ William Shakespeare _

_ * * * * * _

Staring out of the glass and into the endless darkness the view provided, Satine shifted and took a small sip from her wine glass, allowing the sweet tangy liquid to soothe her nerves and troubles of the day. Not that it helped, but the illusion that it would, did cause some of the tension in her skull to fade.

Really, one would’ve thought betrayal would be something she was used to by now. The years of being Duchess of Mandalore have given her plenty of experiences and yet, the recent treachery she’d faced still stung.

Tiredly, Satine turned away from the window and set her wine glass down before rubbing her right temple grimly. Who was she kidding? It hadn’t been the betrayal of Senator Merrik, but the unwitting confession she’d given to _ him  _ hours before that had her brooding and seeking solace in her room aboard the  _ Coronet _ .

_ Obi-Wan, it looks like I may never see you again. I don’t know quite how to say this, but I’ve loved you from the moment you came to my aid all those years ago. _

_ Goddess, _ she clutched the narrow bridge of her nose. What had she been thinking? Clearly, she hadn’t. Although, in her defence, it had seemed like a good idea at the time considering how close she’d been to dying and all. Additionally, the thought of never seeing him again had ached and hurt more than she could bear and hence, the words she’d cradled close to her heart for more than a decade had been released for everyone to hear. 

Pressing her lips together into a thin line, Satine drained the remains of her drink and slammed the cup down forcefully on the glass tabletop nearby. It’d been foolish on her part for it caused her more heartache and regret than she thought possible.

But then again, she wasn’t the only accomplice in this whole torrid mess that was  _ them _ . He didn’t have to show up after all these years, stirring emotions she thought she was done with. He didn’t have to declare that he would’ve given up the Order for her if only she’d asked. Now, all she was left with were possible visions of a future she could never have. 

Satine didn’t know if she hated or loved him more for that. To know that they could have had  _ more _ rendered the ice around her heart to crack. And yet, he wouldn’t be the man she loved had he so easily shirked his duties and vows. It was bittersweet.  _ They _ were bittersweet.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, but images and situations of What Ifs had she opened her mouth filled her mind and settled painfully in her gut. Would they have been happy? Had a handful of ginger offspring that drove her mad? Would his abilities with the Force aid her in rooting out the opposition to her rule, bringing peace to her planet much sooner? 

She would never know.

Satine Kryze hardly ever allowed herself time to have a pity cry. She figured it a waste of time when she had a war-torn country to rebuild and run. But there were times her hold on her emotions were too tenuous that she gave into the urge.

Now seemed like a good time for one.

And just as she was all set to release her tight reins on her emotions, three consecutive knocks on the durasteel door sounded. 

“I do not wish to be disturbed,” she called out loudly as her brows knitted together, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she thought it did.

Instead of her unwelcome visitor going away like she wished, the doors slid open and Satine whirled on her feet, an icy glare directed at the figure standing in the doorway. “ _ I said I do not want to be _ —”

Upon recognising the intruder, the sharp retort fell short and she swallowed hard. Of course it had to be  _ him _ . She knew the Force never liked her and simply enjoyed to see her suffer when it came to its servants. No wonder her ancestors had enjoyed Jedi hunting. 

She stared at him, at the clean lines of his sand-coloured Jedi robes that were tailored well to his body, the neat trim of his facial hair that made him appear older and more distinguished and how those eyes of his were watching her—studying her with something akin to knowing. 

Satine scowled, hating how her body seemed to thrum and buzz at the mere sight of him despite the years they’d done anything untoward. 

“General Kenobi,” she began stiffly, body straightening as she immediately mustered all her bearings and strength to hold a proper conversation when her feelings were so perilously close to the edge.

_ Damn the wine _ , she cursed mentally when her knees wobbled just a tad as she shifted to face him.

Obi-Wan raised a brow at her use of his title but simply entered her room. “Duchess.”

Satine narrowed her eyes. “Is there something I can help you with, General?”

He paused, those sea-coloured eyes she’d dreamt about for years flickered for the barest of moments before he cleared his throat and pinned them on her with an intensity that she deemed unnerving. Especially in light of their recent unwitting confessions. 

She refused—absolutely refused to fidget. 

“Satine, I just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” 

How was it possible for her name to sound terribly decadent coming from his lips? Gaze darting down, she allowed her shoulders to slump a little before shaking her head. Knowing that the animosity she was experiencing was aimed primarily at herself and not him, she offered a wane smile. 

“Don’t lose your head worrying for me, Obi-Wan. I am indeed fine considering the events of the day.” 

“I can see that.”

His voice was even, face calm and impassive, his form open and inviting and she recognised the man that now stood in front of her. He was no longer Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi Master, but Obi-Wan Kenobi,  _ the Negotiator. _

He was waiting, she realised with some degree of horror. Waiting for her to start discussing their impromptu heartfelt declarations.

Where was a glass of wine when she needed one? 

Well, Satine refused to get into a debate with someone like the Negotiator, who had too much experience running circles around politicians, sidestepping their personal agendas while pushing his own and always emerging victorious. No, getting straight to the point and leaving no space for him to deflect was key. 

Summoning the last of her resolve, Satine tucked a loose curl behind her ear before tilting her chin upwards. “Regarding what I’ve said earlier, about how I feel…” she paused, hesitation colouring her words at the way Obi-Wan was observing her, listening intently, his face not betraying a single iota of emotion.

Abruptly, indignation flared up, hot and furious and she curled her hands into small delicate fists at her sides.

Why was she always the one taking the first step in this twisted dance of theirs? Why did she have to be the one to ask him to stay? Even when they had been on the run before her rule on Mandalore, it had been her who’d initiated their first kiss, her who’d encouraged his hands to wander, leading them to their first night together (It may have been quick and hasty but nonetheless utterly satisfying). And now, he was expecting her to bridge this gap her prior confession had caused.

No. Just—no. 

Frankly, she was tired.

As quick as her temper had been riled, it faded, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that felt like an impossible burden, weighing her down. She was done, done hanging on to something that will never amount to anything in the foreseeable future, done casting her heart onto someone that never truly wanted it in the first place.

Satine wanted out. And as long she and Obi-Wan continued crossing paths like this without any proper conclusion, she would always be left wondering— _ hoping _ .

“Satine?” he prompted, taking a step closer. 

It was due to his incredibly blue eyes searching hers that made her straighten her spine and fix him with a steely glare. “About what I’ve said, you can disregard it and leave,” she said imperiously, raising her chin a little.

Obi-Wan blinked, drawing back slightly and smug satisfaction filled her by taking the great Negotiator by surprise. Not many held that achievement, but Satine could  _ and _ would proudly brag she was one of the few who the Jedi Master could hardly predict.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” she said coolly, pursing her lips. “Obi-Wan— _ Ben _ ,” her voice quivered ever so slightly and there was a knot in her throat, “I love you. But knowing that you’ll never do anything about how you feel, I…” she trailed off, doing her best to ignore the way her gut clenched. Satine lowered her eyes. “Perhaps it would be best if we stick to being mere acquaintances and nothing more. That way, you and I can be free from—”

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

Inhaling sharply, her eyes flew up as all the air seemed to have been sucked out of her lungs when he moved nearer. Their new proximity allowed her to see the green flecks of his eyes, to smell that familiar scent of musk and that stupid spicy tea blend that was undeniably him, to note the deeper lines on his face, reminding her of how much this horrid blasted war was tearing away pieces of the man she loved bit by bit.

And despite boldly facing down numerous adversaries, bounty hunters and people who would love to see her head on a spike, she glanced away. 

The Jedi Master was wont to see past her facades with ease and that was something she didn’t want  _ now _ . Forcing herself to remain still and not to react visibly, Satine allowed her mouth to twist wryly before gesturing for him to sit on the plush velvet-lined chair behind him. 

Obi-Wan remained silent, a hand reaching up to rub at his chin pensively and not for the first time since they reconnected, Satine narrowed her eyes at the mere action. She loathed his beard. 

“I don’t see why this is relevant,” she said with feigned nonchalance, turning her head away and wrinkling her nose when a quick jerk of her wrist revealed that her wine glass was empty. “It was all in the past.”

Honestly, which of her staff had thought it a good idea to allow him entry into her suite without consulting her first?

“Satine, please,” he cajoled, voice soothingly calm and earnest. “Indulge me.”

She swallowed harshly. Was she really going to open the can of worms that had been haphazardly sealed shut more than a decade ago? 

Apparently so. 

“How could I?” she all but burst out, glaring at him through near-glassy eyes, the dam in her heart breaking. “The Order was all that you knew—they were practically your family. How could I ask you to choose me over them? I’m just someone you knew for about one standard year.” Was her lower lip really trembling? Goddess, help her. “With your heart set on being a Jedi and knowing you would have been a great one,” she said softly, chancing a quick glance at him before averting her eyes, “how could I take you away from that?”

Satine daren’t look at him. She can’t. Not when her emotions were so clearly painted on her face.

“Obi,” she continued shakily, the lump in her throat growing. “Your commitment and dedication to the Order is what I admire and love about you and if I ever did ask you to give it all up,” she shrugged and another loose blonde curl slid against her cheek, “I fear you would have resented me in the long run.” 

He was silent. Knowing him all too well, Satine could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, picking apart her words and analysing them with great precision. 

Bracing herself for his usual gentle rejection, she stood up and immediately stumbled, her head spinning too fast from the alcohol she’d imbibed. 

“Force, how much have you drank?” The murmured chiding she received and coupled with the large warm hands steadying her, Satine froze. How long has it been since he’d actually touched her because he wanted to and not due to some danger to her life?

Letting him direct her movements, Obi-Wan slid his hands around her upper arms, turning her so that they were eye-to-eye. His fingers were firm but careful, revealing a sense of familiarity and affection. With their faces so close, Satine could hardly think, let alone breathe or to swipe away the lone tear that trickled down her cheek. 

“Oh, don’t cry. You know I can’t quite handle tearful females adequately.” His hand reached up to cup the side of her face, the pad of his thumb brushing the salty liquid away with such tenderness that it caused more tears to spill.

Satine sniffled, blinking hard before pressing her face into the crook of his neck—even though she knew she would hate herself for it later on. If this was to be their last encounter before they descended into something akin to strangers, she’d grab it selfishly with both hands and savour it to the best of her ability. 

“Would you still have me leave?”

“What?” Her voice was slightly muffled by the high-necked collar of his Jedi robes but she knew he heard her.

“After all these years till now, would you still ask me to leave the Order?”

She paused for a moment, debating on telling the truth due to something prickling at the back of her head, silently telling her that her answer was terribly important, that it could contribute to something that would alter the future irrevocably. It was as if she held the reigns of two very different pathways. The sensation was odd, sweeping over her form, sending chills down her spine and before she could think on it further—

“Yes.”

Satine knew it had to be the alcohol coursing through her veins for the answer she gave. Liquid courage indeed. Never mind she knew the answer Obi-Wan would give. At least she could take pride in being honest and direct, not only with him, but more importantly, with herself. 

His hand shifted down to the small of her back. “In that case, I shall.”

“You shall what?”

“I’ll stay if you’ll have me.”

At that, Satine’s eyes snapped wide open and she jerked back harshly, ripping herself away so that she could actually look at him. Surely, she must have heard wrong. 

_ “What?” _

Obi-Wan was smiling, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, the lines more pronounced but the boyish gleam in those depths were unmistakable. “ _ Satine _ ,” his voice was borderline teasing and she could only gape at him.

“ _ Don’t you Satine me!”  _ she snapped, jabbing her index finger into his chest. “What do you mean? Are you really leaving the Order?”

He stroked his beard in a pensive fashion, his brows creasing as he tilted his head. “I’m beginning to think you don’t want me around after all.”

“ _ Kenobi!” _

He grinned, his smile teetering on the edge of mischief as he shrugged. “My dear, have you ever known me to say things I don’t mean?” 

“Well, I would hardly know, would I?” she snarked, eyes flashing. “We’ve hardly spoken after all these years. All I do know about you is your disdain for politicians, your ability to hold liquor like a seasoned pirate and that you snore!”   


“Now, now, there is no need to bring any of that up.” His smile hadn’t faded. In fact, it seemed to have grown as he observed her. “Aren’t you going to say anything about my decision to leave the Jedi Order?” 

Her lower lip trembled and Satine shook her head. “I…I can’t—Obi-Wan, you’re not actually serious! I can hardly expect you to do so with the war going on!” 

All trace of amusement left his face as his brows furrowed. “Yes, the war.” 

Words can’t describe the haunted expression that formed on his angular features but it was a look Satine never wanted him to have ever again. Knowing war and conflict herself, she knew he was relieving the horrors he’d seen, the lives he’d unwillingly taken, the loss of his men that were under his command and feeling the true toil and guilt they all brought.

Her Jedi had always been a quiet gentle soul. He wasn’t built for destruction and conflict unlike others who thrived on them. She could only imagine the weight upon his shoulders and how alone he was due to the Jedi code. Honestly, how was simply relying on an ambiguous all-knowing entity helpful for one’s state of mind and well-being? 

Eyes softening, Satine cupped his cheeks, the pad of her thumbs stroking his cheekbones, hopefully bringing him back to her and chasing away his ghosts. “Obi. Talk to me.”

His mouth formed into a strained curve as his gloved hands grabbed her wrists, tugging her arms down before interlacing their fingers together.

“You don’t really need to hear about the ugliness of the galaxy,” he said as his thumbs ran over her knuckles lightly. 

Normally, she would have rebutted and told him smartly that she  _ did _ know how cruel and horrid wars could be. Hadn’t she been placed on the throne directly after a civil war where brothers killed each other? Where the blood of her own people were shed needlessly? Where children were orphaned and left on the streets?

“Alright,” she conceded quietly. “But you must explain to me why you want to leave the Order  _ now _ for I cannot accept being the sole reason behind this decision. Nor can I believe that you’re this impulsive due to our prior exchange.”

Obi-Wan made a sound that was a mix of snort and a cough as he ran a hand over his auburn hair. “It seems that you do know me quite well, my dear,” he said dryly, raising a brow, giving her a look she deemed awfully smug for a Jedi. 

In retaliation, she pinched him in the arm.

“For a woman who has declared herself a pacifist, you’re awfully violent,” he remarked as he brushed his chin with his thumb and index finger.

“Stop deflecting,” she muttered, shooting him a scowl from under her lashes. “I know when you’re trying to avoid the subject and I refuse to allow the Negotiator to run circles around me.” 

“Are you aware that I dislike that title?” 

“I suppose so,  _ yes _ .” She smirked archly when he wrinkled his nose. “But I am serious, Obi-Wan. Please.” 

The Jedi Master observed her, his eyes narrowing for the slightest bit before they flicked away, focusing on some distant spot on the walls. On her part, Satine waited, allowing him to gather his thoughts before he spoke.

“You were right about the Jedi being peacekeepers,” he started, brows knitting. “Despite being trained in combat and lightsaber forms, violence is  _ always _ the last resort in any situation. You know this.” 

She nodded, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“Hence, the longer this war drags on, I find myself asking how have we landed up in the middle of the battlefield? We’re meant to be mediators, advisors, contributing to a peaceful solution. But with every mission that comes along, the lines are getting blurred. It all started with the clones—yes, they were created with the sole purpose to defend the Republic, but they are beings with choices and their own identity and to leave them with no other way than—” 

His head dropped, his forehead creasing. “Furthermore, the Order is supposedly meant to uphold peace in the galaxy, to be held separate from organisations. We’re not meant to be associated with politics or other planetary leaders, nor to be soldiers… Yet, here we are, tied to the Republic, bound by their laws and bills, taking orders not from the Council, but from the Chancellor.” He turned to face her, face unbearably sombre. “Basically, it is no longer what I’ve sworn to serve.”

“And…” he paused, ducking his head down to gaze upon their interlaced fingers. “What happened earlier—the threat to your life...I—” His voice was low and rough, his polished Coruscanti accent giving away the turmoil within him. “Despite everything that happens is due to the will of the Force, I don’t want there to be any regrets for me.” 

For the first time tonight (and perhaps in a very long time), Satine finally allowed the small glimmer of hope in her heart to be stoked.

“So, will Mandalore accept a former Jedi as a citizen or do I have to first participate in some absurd bloodthirsty Mandalorian custom?”

Satine grinned and laughed—something girlish and carefree—before hooking her arms over his shoulders, her fingers brushing against the reddish-blond hair at the nape of his neck. In return, his hands settled on her hips and she swore she could feel the burning heat of him through the layers of clothes separating them.

“Why don’t you kiss me first?” She tilted her chin, gazing at him from under her lashes. “Then, we can discuss the terms of your citizenship application,” she murmured, allowing her lips to graze against his for the barest of moments.

Unlike instances in the past, Satine refused to make the first move. She meant it. If Obi-Wan truly wanted her, he would have to be the initiator this time.

“Well,” he cocked his head, lifting a hand to tuck a blonde curl behind her ear. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

She let out an elegant snort. “You, presumptuous? Never. Now, shut up and kiss me.” 

He did.

The moment the distance between their mouths decreased, it felt like they were back on the run all those years ago. She, the future ruler of Mandalore and he, a Padawan learner whose mission was to protect her. But there were differences this time. When they were young, they’d been fuelled by teenage hormones, seeking passion and closeness above all. Now that they were older, reunited after years of going through different paths and trials, it felt like coming home; having a piece of yourself reunited with the rest.

She sighed, tightening her grip on him as he cupped her cheek tenderly, adjusting the angle of her face so that he could deepen the kiss. Eyes fluttering shut, she ran the tip of her tongue over the swell of his bottom lip before giving a sharp nip. From the way Obi-Wan shuddered and gasped, she knew she’d gotten to him. 

Satine had always known she was competitive, but what she’d forgotten about the man in her arms was that he, too, was the same. Or worse. 

Clearly eager to one-up her, a hand slid down the side of her waist, clutching her hipbone through the layers of her robes. The movement was hardly a grip, rather more like an amorous caress a lover would give. The meaning wasn’t lost on her, not when Obi-Wan tilted his head, beginning to leave soft chaste kisses on the side of her throat, alternating them with ticklish nibbles on her skin.

However, when the soft coarse hairs of his beard brushed against the delicate skin of her neck, she is once more reminded that things have changed. They’ve grown up, carrying heavier responsibilities on their backs that were not so easily shirked as compared to in the past. Especially now with the war that threatened to tear the galaxy apart. 

And Satine knew—oh, how she  _ knew _ —that she could not live with herself if she took advantage of the turbulent events of the day to encourage his leaving of the religion he’d pledged his entire life to. That is not to say she wouldn’t accept him if he truly wanted to hand in his resignation, or whatever the Jedi did when they wanted to quit. But that wasn’t the only factor of her hesitance. A few years down the road, Obi-Wan might come to regret his choice and resent her if the war took a turn for the worse. She didn’t think she could bear that.

No, before they did anything, Satine needed him to be absolutely sure. 

Reluctantly, she pulled away, her hands bracing the sides of his face as her gaze raked over his features, focusing on a stubborn lock of his hair that fell across his forehead, on his half-lidded eyes that were fixed on hers with an intensity that took her breath away, his parted mouth and how his usually immaculate indestructible walls have crumbled.

It warmed her to know that he was only like  _ this _ for her.

“Satine?”

Slowly, she ran the pad of her thumb across his red swollen lip and shook her head. “Obi, you know how I felt— _ feel  _ about you and while I’m more than ecstatic about your choice, I just want to make sure that you haven’t made it lightly—”

“I have not,” he interrupted, shooting her a pointed yet amenable look as he squeezed her hip lightly. “While I confess that I’ve only decided on it recently, the thought has been dwelling in the back of my mind for quite some time.”

“Let me finish,” she said firmly, fingers memorising the light faded scar on his cheek, a scar that hadn’t been there when she’d met him all those years ago. “I understand your reasons for leaving the Order and you know that you’re always welcomed on Mandalore—”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming—”

“Kenobi!”

“I apologise. Do go on, Duchess,” he murmured and grinned goodnaturedly when she threaded a hand through his hair and yanked admonishingly. 

“As I was saying,  _ General,” _ she huffed, ignoring the growing smile on Obi-Wan’s face or the mock polite cough he emitted, “this decision is not something that can be taken back once made. More importantly, I do not want what occured today to be the catalyst or the turning point your choice is based on.”

He raised his brows and from the look in his eyes, Satine quickly placed a finger over his lips. 

“Our circumstances are more dire than ever and once you’ve left the Order, I doubt they’ll welcome you back—or maybe they would because you’re the Negotiator—”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. 

“ _ —anyway _ ,” she stressed, “it’ll be best if you thought about this properly with a clear head—meditate on it and when you’ve finally reached a decision, we would stick to it with no more regrets to haunt us. I wouldn’t be mad if you remained with the Jedi,” she said quietly. “But of course I’ll prefer it if you stayed with me.” Unable to help herself, a tiny hopeful smile formed on her lips as she gazed up at him.

Obi-Wan studied her; those eyes of his that never missed anything, always analytical and careful, ran over her face and briefly, she wondered if he was using the Force to read her mind. But he wouldn’t. He knew what her opinions were about Jedi mind tricks.

“I understand,” he said solemnly, though his lips were quirking up at the corners. 

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Truly?”

“ _ Force _ , Satine,  _ yes. _ ”

“I just wanted to make sure,” she huffed, eyes darting away and hating how she didn’t know what to do with him now or how to position herself or how to move away from this situation. One minute, they’d been arguing, the next, kissing and now they were back to bickering. Maybe it wouldn’t be wise for them—

“Don’t.”

Gaze snapping back to his, she blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Gloved fingers cradled her cheeks, sweeping away blonde tendrils away from her face to tuck them neatly behind her ears. “I’ll meditate, convene with the Force tonight as you wish, but please, do not doubt your heart or mine. No matter the path I’ve decided, never doubt what I feel for you.”

She nodded jerkily, unwilling to respond verbally, sure that her voice would waver from the sudden onslaught of emotions that his words brought. They rushed through her, choking her, closing off her airways. Unable to hide the sharp inhale of her chest, Satine averted her eyes, which were turning glassy once more. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow when we reach Coruscant.” His words may have been formal, perhaps even perfunctory, but his tone, on the other hand, was anything but. “Have a good night, Satine.” With that, Obi-Wan brought her closer, pressing his mouth tenderly against her forehead. 

His lips lingered and despite having shared far more passionate kisses, this one caused warmth to bloom in her heart and for her gut to ache oh-so-sweetly. When her Jedi drew back, she could clearly see the myriad of emotions flashing in his eyes. It comforted her greatly to know that she wasn’t the only one struggling with this latest development in their perpetually tangled relationship.

With one last look, Obi-Wan pivoted on his heels and left, the durasteel doors sliding open at his approach.

As she watched his retreating form, Satine pondered on the words he’d last spoken and found that she appreciated his lack of promises to join her in the foreseeable future. It meant he was taking her request to think about this seriously, that he would be weighing the consequences both choices would result in, and acknowledging them to factor in his final decision.

Sinking down on the same sofa, elbows resting on her knees, she clasped her hands to her cheeks and closed her eyes, sincerely hoping she hadn’t made a foolish decision. Most importantly, she was praying that for  _ once _ , the Force wouldn’t part them again. 

* * * * *

Smoothing down the lines of her jewelled-hue robes, Satine carefully stepped off the ship and hoped she looked as though she had a decent night of sleep. Like she’d predicted, she had not. She’d tossed and turned amidst rumpled sheets, her mind spinning and running about Obi-Wan and the choice he would settle on.

To stay with the Jedi Order or with her on Mandalore.

However, when she caught sight of him on the landing platform looking all too solemn and determined, she knew she’d come in second place. Again. Heart sinking, Satine fought off the threat of tears and forced on a benign yet cool smile—one suited for the leader of the Neutral Systems—and slowly made her way to where he stood. She would admit she was more than glad the Chancellor and his entourage, as well as the other senators had walked off, giving her the opportunity to speak with Obi-Wan without the necessary but much detested formality.

Never mind her feelings or how much she longed to be in his arms once more, she had promised to accept and respect his final decision and she would. This time, she would mourn for what could have been and let go, freeing them both.

As she approached the waiting pair, she stared hard, committing this image of him to memory, knowing their paths would hardly cross what with him tied to the Republic, and she, from a Neutral System. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t affected by the impassive expression on his face or how he had his weathered armour back on over his Jedi robes. 

His former padawan, Anakin Skywalker—a name and face she recognised due to her tracking all news from the Holonet over the years for any news of his master—cleared his throat and stifled a cough before walking away to give them some privacy. However, Satine didn’t miss the knowing twinkle in his eyes and wondered how much he knew about her and her ties to his mentor.

Ever aware of her four guards in close proximity, she forced her emotions down and gave a serene smile, which belied the true torment that laid beneath it. “How ironic to meet again only to find we’re on opposing sides,” she said, allowing the familiar trappings of civility and diplomacy to guide their conversation.

“The needs of your people are all that matter,” he answered, blue eyes earnest. “They couldn’t be in better hands with you to guide their future.”

It was strange, she thought distantly, that they’d argued about their respective stands on war and conflict only just yesterday. To Satine, it felt like months. When her dedication to staying neutral had been pulled into question, the frustration and anger that appeared was now nothing more than mellowed embers in lieu of Obi-Wan’s confession of his view of the war.

“Kind words indeed from a mindful and committed Jedi,” she settled on and inclined her head forward shortly.

A wrinkle formed in his brow and he straightened.

“And yet…” she trailed off, studying him with heartrending fondness, taking stock of his groomed reddish-blond hair, those eyes of his that were still as expressive as the day she’d met him and the expanse of his neatly trimmed facial hair. 

Well, if this was the last time she was to interact with him as more than acquaintances, she really should allow herself more than whatever  _ this _ was. Emboldened by her thoughts, Satine smiled a tad mournfully and stepped closer, a hand reaching out to stroke the side of his face. “I’m still not sure about the beard.”

He blinked and frowned, uncertainty painting his features. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Determined not to allow sadness and regret cloud their last parting, her grin grew larger as her fingers slid against his cheek, savouring the minute touch and feel of him with the pad of her fingers.

“It hides too much of your handsome face.” Turning and offering one last smile over her shoulder, she shrugged, forcing down the ache and disappointment before mustering all the strength she had to keep on walking and not look back. She’d promised to put him— _ them _ —behind her and she would keep it.

“Well, I suppose I ought to get used to you nagging about it everyday, then.” 

Satine stopped, eyes flying wide open at the implications of that one sentence.

Surely he wasn’t saying what she thought he was, was he?

But more importantly… 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi! I certainly do not nag!” she hissed, pivoting sharply on her heel. Had it not been for the company of her guards or Obi-Wan’s former padawan, she would’ve jabbed him indignantly in the chest with her index finger.

She was not going to focus on what he’d insinuated and instead, chose to narrow down on his highly incorrect assumption of her. She wouldn’t let herself have the opportunity to hope again.

His mouth curved and his eyes positively  _ gleamed _ . “You can’t blame me. You’ve done nothing to dispel me for saying so. But I will be standing firm in my refusal to get rid of it, my dear.”

Gawking was something Satine never did. But here she was, lips parted as she stared at him with wide eyes and hope fluttering in her chest. It was starting to slowly dawn on her that she’d won this time around.

She’d been chosen over the Order.

“Are you serious?” she asked softly, her voice quivering, afraid if she spoke any louder, Obi-Wan would take it back. 

He arched a brow, cocking his head and crossing his arms. “I am.” 

She blinked. “What about the Order?”

His smile faded and he shifted closer, his battle-worn vambraces reflecting the rays of light from the sky. “I did meditate and allowed the Force to guide me and well… it does seem leaving the Order is in my cards after all.” 

Swallowing hard, Satine barely allowed herself to react. Mouth going dry and her eyes glossing up, she struggled to regain control of her brain so she could actually digest and accept what Obi-Wan was truly saying. 

“Truly?” she whispered.

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened to that  _ look _ she recognised was only reserved for her and her alone. “Yes. I understand you’ll have to prepare going before the Senate tomorrow and well… If you wouldn’t mind, I could drop by your guest apartment at the embassy for visiting foreign dignitaries later this evening. We can talk properly without an audience.” 

Nodding her head, she offered a large tremulous smile and it took all of her self-control to resist the urge to draw him closer, to have his arms around her, to bury her face into the crook of his neck, to surround herself with his presence, to tell herself that she wasn’t dreaming nor making any of this up.

“Good,” he took her hand and drew it up to his face, his lips lingering on the back of her palm, “I’ll see you later, then, Duchess.” 

Their eyes met, blue on blue and heat flushed in her cheeks. Not for the time in her life, Satine hated having the complexion of an Echani, for her blush was clear for all to see. 

“General Kenobi,” she murmured in parting as he released her hand. Immediately, she swept away, aware of the subtle looks they were earning. As she walked off, her heart racing anticipatorily, Satine fought the urge to give him one last glance over her shoulder, knowing full well he was watching her till she left the landing platform.

* * * * *

Having always placed duty above everything else, Satine didn’t have too much of a problem focusing on her presentation for the Senate that was to take place the next day. Her thoughts may have drifted to Obi-Wan’s impending arrival more than once, but she’d emerged triumphant at the end. Her presentation was neatly outlined and perfected while her arguments had been detailed out, leaving no room for rebuttal or loopholes. 

As if on cue, a handmaiden informed her a Jedi had arrived. Satine’s hands shook and involuntarily, she smoothed her dress for any creases before running her fingers through her hair. Was she a little transparent? Maybe.

Distantly, she wondered what her guards and handmaidens thought about Obi-Wan coming to see her at this time of the night. She wasn’t an idiot. The turbulent history between Mandalorians and the Jedi was something not entirely smoothed over till now, but she hoped that her people would come to love Obi-Wan as she did. Mandalorians respected the strong and if there was anyone deserving of that characteristic, it was him. And if that didn’t work, well, perhaps Obi-Wan really would have to prove himself in that department.

“Satine.”

“Obi-Wan,” she greeted, her heart thudding away in her chest as she took stock of his freshly showered form, the state of his tousled damp hair giving him away. Though she was staring at him like a schoolgirl suffering from a crush, she was aware of the warm smile on his face and her handmaiden closing the door, giving them privacy.

“How was the debrief?” she started, seating herself down as the possible imminent reality of  _ them _ began to sink in and Satine felt bereft, unsure of how to begin and yet, wanting him to hold her, to brush their lips together—

“It went as expected. Another Senator falling into the pockets of the Separatists isn’t entirely a rare event,” he answered wryly and eyed her speculatively. “Though the Council did want my opinion if there was even a slight chance you might do the same.”

Satine huffed and drew herself up. “Of course not! I do intend on staying neutral and that includes the people and systems I represent. I will not drag them into a useless and senseless war if I can help it!” 

The corner of his mouth tugged up. “That’s what I told them, though not with your indignant tone.” He sounded fond and terribly amused, his eyes bright.

She scoffed but hesitated, biting her lower lip. “Have you...told the Council about...”

Obi-Wan paused, his brows creasing as he regarded her. “No,” he sighed and sat next to her. “I wanted to inform Anakin first, but I’m afraid I couldn’t track him down. Force knows when he'll be back in the temple when he’s planet bound. Though I can imagine the lecture I might receive from him about having attachment.”

“Oh?” 

In Satine’s opinion, Anakin Skywalker was hardly the type of man that marched to the beat of anyone’s drum except his own. But what did she know? She’d known of the man since he’d been a padawan, trailing after Obi-Wan since the start after the liberation of Naboo, but that didn’t mean she  _ knew _ him.

“Yes,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He may be a great Jedi, but he is terribly indiscreet with his dalliance with Senator Amidala. Had it not been for the war, I’m sure the Council would’ve picked up on it by now.”

“And you didn’t tell them?” she queried, accepting the two glasses of wine from a serving droid and handing one to Obi-Wan.

“How do you think the Council will take it?” he pointed out. “He’s the Chosen One, they will never allow it and he can’t—”

“Well, Chosen One or not,” she interjected a tad sharply. “It is still up to him should he want to leave the Order for love just like you. He is a person, Obi, capable of his own thoughts and responsible for his choices in life.” She raised a brow and shrugged. “If he is forced to remain in the Order, I doubt things would end well for him or anyone.”

Obi-Wan stared at her for a moment, face pensive and solemn before they were replaced with a grudging smile. “It has been awhile since you’ve reminded me how much you’re often right.”

Snorting, she took a small sip of her glass (she had to ensure she didn’t overindulge this time). “What do you mean? I’m always right,” she informed him haughtily, the glint in her eyes and the small smile on her lips belying her arrogant tone.

“Of course, my dear,” he said indulgently, setting his glass down.

“If only Qui-Gon could see you now,” she murmured. “I remember you complaining about how he never listened to the Council, only carrying out his actions based on promptings from the Force. And here you are now, following in his footsteps.”

He raked his fingers through his hair, a sheepish look forming. “Probably. Though, I do hope you don’t mind that it could be awhile before I can join you on Mandalore, my love. There are some loose ends I have to tie up.”

_ My love. _ Her heart skipped a beat. “How long would that take?”

“Four weeks? Perhaps, three, if things go smoothly.”

“Well,” Satine reached out and cupped his cheek, “we’ve waited this long to be together. In the grand scheme of things, a few weeks doesn’t matter.”

Obi-Wan’s face curved into a grin—one so familiar that it made her own broaden. She acutely could not remember seeing him with a smile that was free from the burden of war and the responsibilities of the Order. 

“You’re a remarkable woman.” 

“Just remarkable?” she teased, lifting a brow.

He laughed, stroking his chin. “No. Of course not.” He levelled her with a look that made her gut swoop. “I think I’ve loved you since you informed me rather rudely that you thought lightsabers were horribly barbaric as opposed to blasters—a statement which I still disagree, in fact.” 

Satine blinked. She hadn’t been aware of that, but his heartfelt declaration didn’t stop a small chuckle from escaping her lips.

“You may laugh,” Obi-Wan said archly. “But don’t forget that these ‘uncivilised glow sticks’ have saved your life more than once.” 

“Yes, but they didn’t help you or I on Draboon with those venom-mites—”

“How on earth did I know that you’ll bring that up again?” he interrupted dryly, shooting her a look that made her dissolve into more laughter. “I suspect you’d hound me about that and my beard for the rest of my life.”

She paused, the words ‘ _ rest of my life’ _ ringing through her ears, her voice halting and unsure. “Do you really mean that?”

Gathering her hands with his, thumbs brushing her knuckles and gazing into her eyes, Obi-Wan smiled, slow and sincere, his eyes glowing with warmth and contentment and love and Satine thought she might actually cry again—

“Yes. If you’ll have me.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” she managed, throat clogging before nodding her head vigorously. “Oh _ ,  _ of course, yes! Absolutely.” 

She only saw his face brighten, the corners of his eyes crinkling in unmitigated joy before he tugged her towards him, their lips meeting. 

Obi-Wan kissed her like he was drowning and she, air; it was a kiss that stole all the breath in her lungs. 

A hand snaked around her waist, pulling her close till she was pressed flush against him. He held her tightly, fingers clutching her hips, while another hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head upwards, deepening the kiss.

His mouth was hot and insistent and Satine curled her hands into the folds of his sand-coloured robes, pushing her body even closer to him. Never shy about what she wanted, she settled her weight on his thighs and met his mouth with abandon, giving herself fully to him. Heart racing unsteadily, she slid her hands up his chest to wrap them around his neck, her fingers beginning to play with the soft strands of his hair that curled at his nape. 

Obi-Wan groaned, momentarily tearing his mouth away from hers as they began to descend down her throat, his hands tightening their hold on her, not allowing her a chance to pull away. Not that she would. Not when she’s here with him, not when they’re  _ together _ . 

Breathing out a moan when his teeth nipped a delicate spot on the nape of her neck, and laving the sting away with broad strokes with the flat of his tongue, Satine gripped his hair tight, unwilling to let go. The scent of him and the faint trace of that spicy tea blend that was native to his birth planet, Stewjon, pervaded her senses and her eyes fluttered when his thumb brushed the underside of her breast, the digit lingering longer than possible to be considered an accident.

She was reeling, lost in the sensations of his mouth, his hands, his presence and Satine knew she never wanted to leave his embrace.

“You know,” she gasped, arching her back when Obi-Wan mouthed at a particular spot on her clavicle. “I always wanted to know... if you’ll look as handsome in Kryze colours.”

“Kryze colours?” he murmured against her skin, pushing her back onto the sofa. “The blues and grays?” 

“Ahh, yes.”

“I’m not certain if they’ll match my complexion,” he quipped.

She stifled a laugh and swallowed his answering groan when their hips met. And just as she was about to slide her hand further down south, past his beige leather belt, a gentle, yet rough hand stopped her. 

“Satine, wait.”

As she drew back, she noted with satisfaction that her Jedi wasn’t as unaffected as he tried to appear; his breathing was ragged, reddish-blond locks wonderfully mussed and his blue eyes couldn’t seem to stay away from her mouth. Secretly, Satine was tremendously pleased she had such an effect on him who was usually the paragon of being a model Jedi.

“What’s wrong?” She noted with a tiny hint of embarrassment that her voice was low and husky. But in her defense, Obi-Wan was no better off.

Obi-Wan looked stern, bashful and conflicted all at once. He sat up and rubbed his chin, all the while eyeing her carefully. “It would be prudent if we—well, I still have not officially submitted my resignation to the Order and I’d rather not have our reunion on a sofa like some trashy holofilm. Especially when you’re not some random romp to me.” 

“Ever the honourable gentleman,” she observed, cradling the sides of his face with a genial smile growing on her lips.

“Well, you wouldn’t have me any other way,” he remarked, something resembling a smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth as he met her gaze.

“Of course,” she murmured and rubbed the swell of his lower lip affectionately. “Well, in that case, just hold me, then. Like all the nights we’d spent under the stars.” 

His eyes gleamed with something soft and tender before he shifted her towards him, allowing her form to cuddle close. “I can do that, my dear.” Obi-Wan adjusted his hold on her waist and Satine settled her head against his chest, the top of her head meeting his chin as he traced random patterns on the expanse of her back. “I can do that.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, soothed by the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath her ear. 

For now, it was more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i might do a second chapter to this to tie up the loose ends in Obi-Wan's view. but we'll see. hope you lovelies enjoyed reading. <3
> 
> love,  
> s


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